


A Word of Advice

by cyren2132



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyren2132/pseuds/cyren2132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen has raptors to raise and a retired paleontologist to question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Word of Advice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samalander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/gifts).



Owen watched the house for several minutes before exiting his Jeep and crossing the street. The yard and house were well-maintained. Trees, shrubbery and flowers neatly and thoughtfully lined the path to the door. Briefly, he had second thoughts about being here but quickly pushed them aside as he ascended the steps and knocked on the wooden screen door. There was a car in the drive and an upstairs window was open, its curtain billowing in the light breeze. Someone was home.  
  
“Hello?” He called out. “Dr. Grant?” He knocked again a little more forcefully, but no answer came.  
  
_Turn around and go home_ , a voice inside his brain said. _He’s not going to talk to you._  
  
Owen almost left then, but thought better of it. Instead, he descended the porch steps and walked slowly to the back of the house. A man was in the back yard, toiling in a small garden. A handheld radio was by his side, playing classical music just loud enough to reasonably mask Owen’s arrival at the front door. Owen cleared his throat, and the man turned around, his face half-hidden by a floppy straw hat.  
  
“Who are you?!” he demanded as he rose to his feet. “And get off my grass in those boots!”  
  
Owen took a step back, surprised at the sudden outburst and quickness. Alan Grant was still pretty sharp.  
  
“Owen,” he answered. “Owen Grady, sorry to just drop by but-”  
  
“Owen Grady,” Grant interrupted. “That name sounds familiar.”  
  
“Yes sir, my father worked with you on a dig in Montana and…Nevada, I think?”  
  
Grant’s eyes lit up.  
  
“Yes, I remember him! Funny guy, liked computers.”  
  
“Yeah, that was him.”  
  
“I never cared much for computers.”  
  
“Neither do I.”  
  
“How is your dad?”  
  
“He passed on about 10 years ago,” Owen answered.  
  
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. What brings you here?” Grant motioned for Owen to join him at a small patio table, complete with umbrella, chairs and a jug of lemonade. He also gave a pointed nod to Owen’s feet. Owen quickly looked down and untied the heavy boots, leaving them on the brick drive as he stepped in his socks across the lawn, joining Grant at the table.  
  
“Yeah, like I said, I”m sorry to just drop in. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.” Grant waved a hand through the air.  
  
“I turned my phone off. The only ones who ever called were reporters wanting a comment on ‘Jurassic World’” he waved his hands in the air over the phrase, an instant dismissal of the park in its entirety. Owen looked down at his hands. The action didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re from there, aren’t you,” Grant asked.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“Okay,” Grant said as he rose from his chair. “We’re done here, it was nice to meet you Mr. Grady, but I’m not going back to that island.”  
  
“No, no no,” Grady said as he stood, nearly knocking over his chair “I’m not asking you to go back. I’m not asking you to endorse anything or sign off on anything. I’ve read your books, and now all I’m asking for is advice. Please.”  
  
Grant stared at him, his brow slightly furrowed like he was trying to figure something out. Slowly, he sat back down in his chair.  
“The only useful advice I can give you,” he said, “is to stay as far away from that island as humanly possible.”  
  
“I can’t do that.”  
  
Grant stared at him quizzically.  
  
“Why’d you join up with them in the first place?”  
  
“Well,” Owen said, taking a sip of lemonade, “I was in the Navy, and that didn’t pay very well. But not being in the Navy paid even less, and when a friend recommended me to the park, I got signed on pretty quick.”  
  
“You should pick your friends better.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“What did you do in the Navy, Mr. Grady?”  
  
“Mostly, I trained dolphins.”  
  
“No doubt to send explosives to enemy submarines.”  
  
“Not at all. Most of my work was in getting them to recognize threats and report back. Dolphins obviously lack the ability to speak but that doesn’t mean we can’t communicate with them.”  
  
“I’ve read that,” Grant said. “How did that lead you to Jurassic World?”  
  
Owen was nervous. He hadn’t been nervous in front of people in years, but this one conversation over lemonade at a paleontologist’s house had him biting his lip and looking at the ground.  
  
“What creatures are they building on that island, Owen?”  
  
“Four raptors were born two weeks ago.”  
  
“Raptors? Raptors?!” for a moment Grant was at a loss for words. “That is the worst idea in this recent history of bad ideas! RAPTORS?! Does the military want them?”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
“Is that why you’re there? To get them field ready for the military?!”  
  
“No,” Owen said. “No it’s not. That’s why I can’t leave. I care about these animals. I respect these animals. If anybody else goes in there, all they’re going to care about is what they can make them do. That’s why I’m asking you to help me. You don’t have to come back, just tell me what you know, so I can protect them.”  
  
“They don’t need your protection, Mr. Grady. And here’s what I know: Man isn’t god, and extinct things should stay that way. Those raptors shouldn’t be here.”  
Owen nodded his head and looked around the garden.  
  
“You know it’s funny,” he said. “That plant over there. The one with the red fronds? It shouldn’t be here either.” Grant turned around in his chair and stared at the piece of prehistoric plantlife. “I read Dr. Sattler’s books, too,” Owen said.  
  
Grant turned back around to face Owen, a stony expression on his face.  
  
“They made all kinds of things on those islands,” he said. “You’d be surprised what seeds and pollens stick to the clothes when you’re running for your life from something that only wants to eat you. Those,” he pointed to the plants, “are here by accident. What you have back on that island was a choice. A damned awful one, too.”  
  
“Maybe so,” Owen said. “Probably, even. But they’re here now, and so am I. Tell me about them. Please.”  
  
Grant stared at him. Owen was good at reading people, but sitting in this chair, he had no idea what the other man was thinking.  
  
“You can’t tame them,” Grant said. “Don’t let them make you think you can. You might be able to train them, but I promise you, Mr. Grady, one day they’ll turn on you, and you better be ready. Because they are smart. They’re smarter than cats and dogs. They’re smarter than dolphins, and smarter than apes.” A shadow began to form across the yard. “They may even be smarter than man.” The wind picked up and a chill ran down Owen’s spine. “Get your boots,” Grant continued. “And come inside before the storm hits.”  
  
Owen jogged back to the driveway and picked his boots up in one hand. Dr. Grant already had his radio and was moving inside, the screen door slamming behind him. Owen followed, the sound of a squeaky windmill and wooden chimes filled the yard. As he stepped through the door, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's one line in here that as soon as I wrote it, I marveled at how in-character it seemed. Then I realized a few days later that about 95 percent of it was a lift from Jurassic Park III. So credit for the bit about raptor intelligence should go to Peter Buchman, Alexander Payne and/or Jim Taylor, who are credited with that script.


End file.
